Canna-bliss
by unhappychildhavingfun
Summary: When Gomez finds his beloved wife feeling disheartened one afternoon, he has an idea that may benefit the both of them.
1. Chapter 1

" _Our hearts are with the victims and their families in the aftermath of the deadly shooting that has shaken America this week. We're going to switch it over to Steven, our reporter who is currently at the scene_ …"

A long sigh escaped Morticia's throat as she gazed blankly at the television screen. She leaned against the wide back of of her wicker chair, her arms resting alongside her. Although every window was sealed tight and every shade was drawn in the capacious living room of the Addams mansion, the summer birds and their obnoxious squeaks wouldn't be contained. Her fingers began to slip into autopilot, causing the sweater she had been crocheting for Cousin Callus to look more like a pillowcase with every stitch. Morticia's thoughts had sunk so deep that she could no longer hear them. Or the birds. Or the news reporter. Or her husband falling head first through the ceiling beside her.

" _Caramba.."_

Gomez groaned and quickly sat up to cover his head as a shower of plaster and debris fell soon after him. The battered Castilian dropped his arms and observed the aftermath of his entrance. He then shot a devilish smile at his entranced wife.

"Aah.. I must be doing something wrong, Cara Mia. It's supposed to blow _up!_ Not _down!"_ He cackled madly as he stood up and brushed the plaster off his hands. Morticia remained unmoved.

"That's dreadful." She muttered, her eyes dull and fixated. Gomez stopped laughing abruptly and paused his expression a moment. His brows raised and his hands rested in his pockets as he nodded.

"Tough crowd."

"Oh no, darling, not you!" Morticia snapped out of her state and looked up at her wounded husband and motioned to the television. "I was talking about the headlines. Besides, Fester said something like that yesterday."

Gomez nodded once more and reached into his breast pocket to pull out a post-fall-through-ceiling cigar and furrowed his brow at his wife. He examined the hole above him. "You know… there are only so many puns you can make from explosions, Morticia."

"I know darling, I'm sorry, really… I suppose I'm just not in the mood. It's all of… this!"

"All of what, my love?" Gomez walked over to the card table and tapped on Thing's box for assistance in lighting his cigar.

" _This!"_ Morticia used the crochet needles she had been gripping to motion to the television screen once more. Gomez puffed his cigar and brushed the dust off his shoulders as he moved quickly to see what was distressing his beloved.

"More shootings?" He turned off the television and knelt beside his poor querida. He caressed her slender hand and pressed it to his lips. "Is that what's troubling you, Cara? Is it the children? By all means, we'll take them out of school! Like you say, they're always suggesting it. And besides, Ms. Dunbar still gives me strange looks…"

"No, darling, it isn't really that…" her hand slipped from his grasp to gently stroke his jawline. "Besides, the children want to be in school now more than ever! Pugsley says it's the most exciting it's ever been. He and Wednesday are the strongest security that school has after all, and it's a very safe area. They've only had two bomb threats within the past 3 years, you know… and both of them from Uncle Fester. Dear Fester, he gets so protective when the children don't get the grades they deserve. Anyway, darling, it isn't just that, it's all of it! The shootings, the threats, the chaos, the anger-it's all the _same_. Everyday. The news isn't exciting anymore, Gomez, not like the good old days when you'd turn on the television and you were told to evacuate because the towers are collapsing. Now you're just told to hold on because we're all spiraling slowly, slowly downward into a blackhole of world madness and human extinction and it's just one big, waiting game full of heartache and despair. Yet there's no _thrill!_ And you know as well as I do, darling…" the temptress dropped the crocheted sweater to her side and slowly stood up, arching her back a little before settling into her posture, "I can't stand my games without the thrill."

She refrained from smiling too wide once the sudden heat of the body she knew so well was pressed to her back and a low growl vibrated against her ear. Deprived hands explored her torso while his tortured whispers intertwined with the locks of her hair. The thin fabric between her flesh and his fingers could almost mock him.

" _Tish…_ you know what you do to me with your depressing monologues about our current state of being…"

" _Darling._ " She stifled a small sound of delight and let her nails drag softly over his cheek.

"Even the most somber, tortured depths of Tumblr could never to thee compare."

Morticia stopped dragging her nails. "What's a "Tumblr" dear?"

"Wednesday says it's a social media platform where a vast range of millennial females who feel misunderstood by a world that owes them nothing can fulfill their narcissistic and platitudinous artistic desires while interacting daily and posing as members of our family."

She raised a brow. "Of _our_ family? … How remarkably unsettling. Darling," Morticia slipped from her husband's grasp to tend to the budding roses on the marble side table, "forgive me. I don't mean to be such a… drag."

"I don't blame you. Especially on a 97 degree disaster such as today." He sighed and picked up the cigar he didn't realize he had dropped.

"I suppose. Perhaps I just feel that it's such a bore to always have to watch the bleeding mayhem and not truly be apart of it."

Gomez's eyes locked on the back of the vixen's head. He proceeded to bound up the main staircase,"Is this where we become terrorists..."

"No dear."

"No, of course not, by George." Gomez turned around and immediately descended the stairs, re-buttoning the jacket of his suit as he did so. Morticia cocked her head in thought, slicing the last white rose off its stem.

"I just… I wish I could stop dwelling on it all."

"Well, that's just it, querida! Let's stop dwelling!" He exclaimed happily and placed his chin on her shoulder, watching intently as she arranged the stems in the crystal vase to her liking.

"But doesn't that make us ignorant?"

Gomez chuckled and brushed ebony locks behind her shoulder, "Indeed." He touched his lips to her neck, smiling as he felt her relaxed demeanor tense just a bit. Morticia's lips curled to a smirk.

"Oh, darling… There was once a time where we couldn't be bothered with the outside world and now I feel as though it's knocking down our door. Am I an arrogant citizen or a careless mother because I would like for just one night to… to forget? To unbend, to… to just be in our _own_ little hell on Earth, just once more? It seems like everyone and everything outside this house is on some mad high."

Gomez's eyes shot up from the neck he had been nibbling on. "... _Mad high?_..." He smiled, widely and gently took the sheers from Morticia's hand. "Querida mia... you say you'd like to…forget?" He set the sheers on the table. "Just for a night?"

"Now, now, darling, I said later."

Gomez chuckled and turned her to face him. "No, that's… well, you said 'later' at nine this morning and it's currently past six, it would be far more helpful if you specify what 'later' means- but no, that's not what I meant. What if I told you that I have a much _different_ way to ease your precious mind tonight… if you're willing to indulge with me."

He winked as he placed a tender kiss on her fingers. The glint in his mischievous glare was a look that Morticia was all-too familiar with, yet her puzzled expression remained.

"Gomez, what on Earth are you talking about?"

" _Cara,"_ he squeezed her shoulders, "you are _stressed._ And as always, you're stressed about what you have absolutely no fault in. It's the price you pay for such a beautiful heart."

" _Gomez…"_

"Let's say I have a temporary solution… to ease all of your anxieties and your worries. To take your mind off any dilemmas you might have and set it free - to have fun, and completely diminish the outside world. And it will just be the two of us, tonight… What do you say, _amante…_ do you trust me?"

Although she challenged his alluring eyes with a stone-cold air, Morticia could feel herself slipping. He was the most exciting man she had ever known, so magnetic and persuasive in the way he spoke. 'He's also a dangerous man, but what could I possibly be refusing?' she thought. As she pondered, she hadn't noticed that his hands had found their way to her waist once more, clouding her thoughts. Gomez Addams may not have been a town favorite, but to at least one person in the world, he was entirely irresistible.

" _Cara mia…"_ Gomez laughed once her dark, pursed lips curled ever so slightly, finally giving him his answer. He pressed his forehead to hers, "Tonight, after the children are in bed."

"Mm. Now kiss me before I change my mind."

* * *

"I change my mind. Gomez, I change my mind - _Gomez!"_

Gomez cackled as he bound down the dark staircase that you would only find if you knew which ax handle to lift from the weaponry display in the playroom. With only a candelabra to lead them through the consuming darkness, Gomez tightened his grip on his wife's hand, practically dragging her behind him. They were descending at a speed that hardly allowed Morticia to brush off every cobweb she encountered on her way down.

"Gomez, _stop!"_ she hissed. "Why in the devil are we going to your mother's sanctum, you know we're not allowed down there!"

"Not without permission."

"Did you _get_ permission? _"_

"Hell no."

After a few more steps they had finally reached a landing. Breathless, Gomez lifted the candelabra, casting a faint glow on a large wooden door thoroughly covered in carvings. He flashed a smile at his querida and quickly enveloped her waist with his arm once she turned to dash upstairs.

"Querida, relax… you put your trust in me." He let go of her waist to pull strands of cobweb from her hair and the shoulders of her nightgown. Morticia kept her voice at a whisper, her eyes darting around in the blackness.

"Yes, that was before I knew that this was what you had in mind! I don't like this, Gomez, this is her most private place! It's _her_ lair and she has always made that very clear, now if you excuse me-"

He held her to him once again. "Morticia, please. I've been sneaking in here since I was a tyke, it's elementary." He gave her a reassuring smile and handed her the candelabra while he searched his pants pockets. Morticia sighed, still weary of whom could be lurking in the dark without their knowing.

"Darling, I really don't like jeopardizing the relationship I've built with your mother…"

"Querida, this is Mama we're talking about."

"Yes. Mama. The same Mama who was the last eye-witness of at least four Avon ladies before they went missing."

"Acquitted." He shrugged. "Maybe they're in here!" He motioned his thumb to the door, smirking at Morticia's irked glare. He took a small bronze key from his pocket and took back the candelabra, "We'll be quick, I promise." He turned to the door and placed the key in the hole on the far left. "Now, it isn't the key that's meant for this door but it works, I just have to manipulate it a little."

As he did so, the artwork of the door was far more visible to Morticia in the candlelight. The carvings were figures and they were remarkably detailed, from every tiny scale of a dragon to the saliva dripping from a gaping Lion's mouth. She couldn't help herself as her hand lifted to touch the wood. Gomez gazed adoringly at her as he jimmied the key. "Incredible, isn't it? Wasn't built with the house, you know. Imported from Spain, a masterpiece from the hands of our great ancestor, Nicolás Mateo Madera de los Remedios Addams. Spain's most esteemed wood carver of the 16th century, called upon by Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor himself to lend his gifts to the interior of the Emperor's Palace in Granada. His last words were, "Ay, una astilla!" "

"What does that mean, dear?"

"Ouch, a splinter."

A small click silenced them both. Gomez winked and slowly pushed the door open.

The room was filled with more burning candles than a catholic church. Vines, leaves, moss and other earthly tokens were tied in bundles on the ceiling, some cascading down over shelves and shelves of books, bottles, jars and artifacts that spread along the walls. Morticia gazed in awe at the homey surroundings, almost bothered that this was one place she wasn't allowed. Gomez smiled at the look of intrigue on his wife's face. He loved it when Morticia grew curious and the way every thought that raced through her mind would reflect in her eyes.

"Look at as much as you can while we're in here, it's quite impressive." He patted the small of her back gently and made his way over to one of the shelves on the far wall. Morticia stepped with caution further into the room, not daring to touch anything of Mama's but certainly eager to take in her surroundings. Gomez set the candelabra next to a shimmering crystal ball on a velvet side table and ran his fingers over a collection of human skulls on a shelf.

"The witch's ditch is mainly full of…" once his fingers had felt over a particular skull, he took it off the shelf and observed it, "ganja." He turned to Morticia with a wicked grin and popped open the top of the skull. Morticia raised a brow and walked over to peer into the skull.

" _Weed?_ " Morticia returned Gomez's wide smile with a dull look of annoyance. "This is it, Gomez? We came all the way down here to-"

"Oh contraire, Cara Mia, this isn't just any marijuana strand, not like what Dr. Mbogo sends us from Zimbabwe, no _this…_ is Mama's personal strand. This is what Van Gogh was on when he painted _The Starry Night_ … or it's what he was on when he sliced off his ear, I'm not sure, but this will ensure you a night of absolute elation."

Morticia cocked her head at the green contents in the skull, the scent already filling the room. It was incredibly strong, which seemed promising.  
"...Darling, it's _hers…_ "

"Cara, I've been sneaking this ganja around since I was 15. She never notices, I promise you. Besides.." he leaned closer to her ear, " I know for a fact… that Mama, after her morning wrestles with the alligator, has been using _your_ silverware to scrape off her shoes…"

"... Just put a handful in your pocket, and let's go."

* * *

The lovers' spacious bedroom was dimly lit by nothing but candles spread on every surface and corner. Morticia stood in front of the burning fireplace lighting the last few candles that stood on the mantle, constantly glancing at the closed bedroom door as she did so. Gomez sat on the red velvet chaise lounge facing the fireplace, grinding the marijuana in his hands with a metal herb grinder above the low glass table in front of him. He looked up at his wife and his hands stopped grinding.

Her hair shimmering over one shoulder against her neck, where her left shoulder was draped with a black lace kimono that would only allow sneak peaks of the snug dark silk that was worn underneath. Every time she turned her head to look at the door, candlelight glistened against her pale cheek. It was scenes like this that often made Gomez want to abandon any plans and arrangements of the night and skip straight to bidding another day farewell pressed against his beloved on that bed on the far side of the room… but he promised her a different kind of nighttime fun, and he was more than eager to deliver. He shook the thoughts from his head and continued turning the grinder in his hands.

"You are an absolute cavern of nerves, cara bella."

"I can't help it, Gomez, I just know she's going to charge in here with a flaming red halberd the second she realizes."

Gomez chuckled and shook his head, "She absolutely will not. And it's clear to me now how much you truly need this." He tapped the ground weed onto the table. He closed the grinder and set it beside the tall hookah before him and placed his hand on the hookah, studying it. "Wait, is this… no, I want the Turkish one. Un memento." He stood and picked up the hookah off the table and left the room. Morticia watched the door shut behind him and proceeded to light the last candle. She blew out the lighting taper and set it on the mantle, she then took a step back to observe her work around the room. Although she had no clue what events would occur tonight, she still wanted the usual romantic atmosphere. It was just the two of them after all. She rubbed her hands together once her nerves began to build again and made her way to the chaise. She sat down and pondered… _what was going to happen, tonight?_ Morticia was always careful. She never drank more than at least two glasses of alcohol, especially around Gomez. Control was her main discipline, it's what kept everything perfect in her world. Some would call it uptight, she called it elegance. She dreaded the thought of losing absolute control of her mind and actions, turning what Gomez saw as his immortal siren into some dumb, floundering imbecile. She shuddered at the thought. The usual weed they used in the hookah would do nothing but completely relax her and expand her thoughts. Afterwards, she would paint, or they'd have a brunch, or adjourn to the library where they would uncover the secrets hidden within the pages of books and discuss them. Or merely lock the bedroom door for the rest of the day. She smiled softly at the thought and brushed her fingers over her clavicle, but jumped once the bedroom door swung open. It was Gomez, grinning madly and holding up the beautiful golden hookah once gifted to them by their dear friend Ahmed Ben Pasha.

" _Showtime_." He winked and locked the door behind him. He made his way to the chaise and sat beside his querida, setting the hookah down before them and immediately packing the weed into the bowl. He then took a small blow torch out from under his robe and began lighting the coals. She watched the skillful way his hands worked, and the scent was almost overwhelming. Once all was done, he sighed contently and took the two hoses, offering one to Morticia but she hesitated.

"Darling, are you sure it's safe?"

"Querida," he leaned closer, his eyes narrow and his lips hovering just over hers, "absolutely not." He handed her the hose as she couldn't help but grin, excitedly. She lifted the mouthpiece up.

"To a mad world."

Gomez shook his head. "To _us_."

They tapped their mouth pieces together and inhaled.


	2. Chapter 2

10 minutes passed by. Gomez inhaled again and tilted his head back to blow out a parade of smoke rings toward the ceiling. He watched in awe as they floated, mingled and dispersed. He smiled, well aware that he was already feeling the effects of the drug. He looked at Morticia, who was staring at her mouthpiece. He raised a brow and caressed her knee.

"Cara? … How are you feeling, my love?"

Morticia slowly lifted her head, then just as slowly turned it to look at Gomez. Her eyes were barely open, and what he could see of her eyes were tinted pink. "Hm?"

Gomez threw his head back and laughed.

"What's funny…"

"Nothing, precioso, except that you look like you've entered another universe." He chortled and rubbed her back.

"Well, I don't know about that…" she inhaled from the mouthpiece again.

"Don't you feel anything?"

Morticia blew out a stream of smoke as Gomez's lips fell on her shoulder. She sighed. "I don't know, darling… I'm sorry, I can't focus on what you're saying while the candles are singing so loudly." She rubbed her temple. Gomez stared at her.

"While… while the..." his lips began to curl, "I'm sorry?"

She gave him a look of irritance. "The candles, darling, they're terribly loud. It's hardly enjoyable." She almost pouted and leaned back. "Can't you make them stop, dear.."

Gomez looked at the distressed woman in amazement. He began to laugh and slowly broke into huge waves of laughter, his entire body hunching over the glass table. Morticia stared at him, curiously. He tried to calm himself down enough to speak but he was practically choking. "M-Morticia…" he managed to say between outbursts of laughter, "the...the candles… the candles aren't singing, baby..." Morticia slowly leaned forward.

"What?.."

"Candles…" Gomez was wiping tears from his eyes at this point. "Candles don't fucking _sing_ …" He finally slid off the chaise and laid face down on the floor, crying with laughter. Morticia stared at Gomez, then lifted her head to look around the room at the burning candles. She thought about what Gomez had just said and stared at the hookah and the mouthpiece sitting in her hand… she began to laugh a laugh that started off as a series of hisses, then slowly escalated to bellowing laughter. She dropped the hose and fell over on the chaise clutching her stomach, joining her husband in his euphoric state.

* * *

Gomez was once again seated on the chaise. He discarded his robe a while ago, now only wearing a cotton undershirt with silk bottoms. Morticia was on her back with her head rested on his lap. She puffed her mouthpiece and gazed up at her husband. She reached her hand up to lightly press her fingers to his mustache. He kissed her hand.

" _Cara_ …"

"Whoa." She pet the patch of hair, softly. Gomez smiled.

"What?"

"Why is it so thick..." She continued petting. "If you weren't so gorgeous, this would probably look gross."

* * *

"I feel like…" Morticia sighed and cocked her head, "...I feel like we shouldn't have named him _Pugsley..."_

* * *

"Hm. You'd think the murder of an entire family on the east side would get a lot more coverage." Gomez tilted his head as he read the newspaper in his hands. "Well, they do need to save paper."

The couple had moved their festivities to the bed, the hookah sitting on Morticia's nightstand. "Oh, look, it's pride month! I'd almost forgotten, Cousin Turncoat invited us to a celebration at his home next weekend." Gomez smiled and turned the page.

"How _sweet_ … I wonder when Fester's going to come out."

* * *

"Tish ...the earthworms… I can hear them."

* * *

"If we had another child, what would you want to name them?"

"I think about this everyday…" Gomez kissed Morticia's cheek as she nuzzled the side of his face.

"Really?" she cooed. Gomez left another lingering kiss on her cheek and nodded.

"Really. And you know, for a boy, I've come to really like the name 'Pubert'."

Morticia sat upright. "Pubert?... Hm… _Pubert_." Her eyes darted about as she thought about the name. "It is cute. But what… what would we call him for short?"

"Short?"

"Yes, like...like, what would we call him, like… "Pube" or "Bert" ?"

Gomez stared at his wife. For a while.

"No… we… we'd just… it's Pubert. It's just Pubert."

"But-"

"Tish.. it's fucking Pubert."

* * *

"Cara, you know what? We should ding-dong ditch the Masons, next door." He cackled and squeezed her thigh. Morticia shot him a look of utter disbelief.

" _Gomez!_ You _know_ dear Mrs. Mason passed away just this morning! I can't believe you, how can you be so _childish?_ "

"...But Mr. Mason is still there…"

"...Oh you're so right, let's go." She giggled and moved off the bed with Gomez following behind her.

"I'll get my coat!"

* * *

"...Gomez, come back inside." Morticia called to the open doors of the balcony as she lounged on the chaise. She sighed, "Gomez?... Gomez, darling, at least put your clothes back on."

* * *

Morticia sat beside her husband on their bed, unsuccessfully attempting to blow smoke rings with one of his cigars. " You know who I truly, _truly_ despise? Lurch's mother. There, I said it."

"Great Scott, so do I." Gomez was sitting cross-legged, braiding a feather into Morticia's hair. "The epitome of a monstrosity. Invades our home, insults us, demanding our attention for unreasonable tasks every 3 minutes, calls you a hussy, coddling Lurch and manipulating him. Everything we did for her son, and she doesn't even know it. A shame." He kissed a lock of Morticia's hair. "I only pray we never have to see her again."

"... What the fuck did she call me?"

* * *

"Okay, my turn." Morticia ran her fingers through her hair and looked into Gomez's eyes.

"And answer me, honestly."

"Always."

"When you were with my sister…"

" _Lord, devil."_

"Did you kiss her?"

"She kissed me, I never retaliated." Gomez leaned forward but Morticia placed a firm hand on his chest.

"Did you like it…?"

He gave her a dull look. "Did I like it? Did I like your sister's prying, rough, thin lips featuring the bitter, cheap taste of cotton candy Lip Smackers? Why, yes, Morticia, the best I ever had." Morticia smirked and leaned forward, kissing Gomez softly. He smiled.

"Now my turn. And answer honestly… when you were with _Rupert Styx-"_

Morticia threw her head back and groaned, " _Gomeeezz.."_

"When you were with Rupert Styx, did you kiss him?"

"Well yes, darling, I was engaged to him!"

Gomez felt a burning in his chest. He tensed, "...Did you like it?" He stared into her. Morticia stared back in silence. She then raised a brow and turned her head. His stomach dropped. " _Morticia."_

She kept her head turned, not allowing him to see the smirk on her lips. "Hm?" Gomez took her shoulders and made her face him, glaring at her with such intensity that made her hold her breath for a mere second.

"Answer me now, did you like it?" His pure expression of terror could almost break her heart. Oh, it was so easy with him… Her eyes widened and her lips parted ever so slightly.

"Oh..." her voice was soft, "you want to know if I… liked it?" She leaned closer. His eyes softened just a bit, but his grip on her shoulders grew firmer.

"Tell me."

"Mm.." She narrowed her eyes and put her hands on his chest, slowly pushing him onto his back. He released her shoulders, his head beginning to spin. She straddled his waist, leaning down with a tempting smile. "You want me to tell you if I…" she hovered over him, brushing his lips with hers, "liked it?"

" _Morticia.."_ he breathed, heavily, his eyes practically crossed. She pressed her lips to his ear and laughed, gently. She could feel his heart trying to escape his chest.

"Well… I know _he_ liked it."

" _Stop!"_ His jaw clenched. The burning sensation filled his chest again and he gripped her waist, digging his nails into her back. There was an edge to his voice, "I don't like your games…"

"Well, I know that's a lie." She nipped his earlobe and stayed close to his ear as she lowered her straddle to his pelvis. Her fingernails raked through his hair and Gomez's eyes fluttered shut. His chest was pounding. Between the high and what she was doing to him, he wasn't sure if he'd survive the night. Her voice became a whisper. "You know how I know he liked it? ...Because whenever I would kiss him… he would go…" She let out a soft moan in his ear. His eyes shot open with a loud growl and he flipped her onto her back, causing her to squeal and cackle. She swiftly pulled his shirt off him right before he devoured her lips.

* * *

"How is it looking?" Gomez asked, laying on his stomach on the floor in front of their bed, the side of his head resting on the back of his hands. He was shirtless but had his boxers on. Morticia was sitting cross-legged on his bottom, dragging the bristles of a paintbrush down the length of his back. On the floor beside her were her various bottles of paint, brushes, and a palate. She didn't bother to put her nightgown back on, and instead dawned Gomez's cotton shirt that stopped at her mid-thigh.

"I believe it's a quite a likeness… almost finished." She dipped her brush into the palate.

"What are you painting again?"

"I told you, what Van Gogh painted when he was high. _Starry Night."_ She continued to brush small strokes on the small of his back. "Lots of blue.."

Gomez chuckled. "Like I said, I don't know if that's when he painted it or when he sliced off his ear..."

"Well, then I'll paint his ear, too." She grabbed another brush and dipped it in the palate and proceeded to dab small dots on his back. "This is far more difficult doing it from memory."

"I know it's absolutely breathtaking."

Morticia grinned. "Thank you, darling. You're by far the smoothest canvas I've ever painted on." She set her brush down and clapped her hands together. " _Finished!_ "

"Brava! How does it look?"

Morticia smiled and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear as she observed her finished work… but she only found herself looking at Gomez's bare back. Dark and muscular, yes... but bare. No paint. No _Starry Night_.

"Querida?"

She blinked, simply gawking. She opened her hand and slowly placed it on the center of his back, then his shoulder blade.

"Everything alright?"

Morticia stared in silence. She looked to the side of her; paint bottles unopened, brushes dry, palate empty. She looked up at the grandfather clock on the left wall. Two hours. She had been "painting" for an entirety of two hours. She stared once again at his back. She started to giggle, which quickly escalated to uncontrollable laughter.

"What…" Gomez chuckled, nervously. Morticia laughed so hard that she slid off of Gomez and fell into a limp pile on the floor, her shoulders heaving. Gomez chuckled again. " _What?_ Did you paint a Buffalo dick on me or something, show me.."

* * *

"...Remember that time you glued on a beard and pretended to be the mother of Fester's fiance?"

"I'm not talking about this."

* * *

"Okay. Ready?"

"Ready." Morticia quickly stifled a giggle and wrapped her hands around Gomez's arm while she knelt beside him on the bed. He dialed a number into the phone in his lap and put it to his ear.

"Okay, it's ringing…" He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "Hello? Is this Abigail Adams? …Hi, this is Michael Davis from the Boston Municipal Court… Yes, we know it's 2 in the morning, but we're-" Gomez shushed Morticia as she started to giggle, lowly. He wrapped his arm around her head, his hand clamping over her mouth once the giggles became uncontrollable. "We're calling to inform you that yesterday at noon, Gomez Addams promptly resigned as executor of the Addams fortune. Thereby, appointing you as new executor. Yes, really. He admitted to being far too much of a nut to continue to hold such responsibilities, and that the fortune should be placed in the hands of someone far more authoritative and liable for the job."

Gomez buried his face in the hair on top of Morticia's head as they both tried to suppress their laughter. They listened to Abigail excitedly wake her husband, bantering about her long awaited victory and shouting "Thank yous!" and several insulting comments about Gomez Addams and his family into the phone. Once he had finally heard enough, he released his hand from Morticia's mouth.

" _SIKE! BITCH!"_ he shouted into the phone, Morticia cackling behind him. "This isn't your fortune, this will never _be_ your fortune, and when I die it'll be my _wife's_ fortune. And then my children's. And then me again, because naturally, I'm freezing my brain and coming back as a robot, so long story short: HA! You're not the head of this family, so drop this case you sad, miserable, bitter old hag. Also, tell Ruthie and Edgar I said hi, love you, sleep well." He hung up the phone in his lap. Morticia rolled onto her back, still laughing. Gomez chuckled and leaned down to her, lifting the night shirt up to attack her stomach with gnaws and kisses.

* * *

"You know who I really love messing with, Tish…" He blew out a stream of smoke rings and Morticia attempted to throw a dart through them. "Mr. Hilliard."

Morticia scoffed, throwing her head back. " _Yes!_ Oh, it's so entertaining to watch him squirm, practically giving himself an ulcer over nothing. Thursday, I told him I'd be submitting one of my famous poison berry pies into the school bake sale. He asked me if I said "boysenberry", I said heavens no, and then he did that weird thing where he gets mad eyes, twitches a little and groans really loudly at you."

"Remember when we actually _bought_ his school?"

" _Yes!"_ Morticia laughed, holding her abdomen. "I thought he was going to shoot himself, he was positively livid!"

"We really did that."

"Oh, and those assholes from the M.S.O."

" _Great Scott._ Trespassing around our backyard, stalking our picnic, literally talking within earshot about turning us in as 'aliens'..."

"Insulting us, lying to us, honestly, how foolish do we look? People can say what they like, they deserved to be locked in the basement. Remember when the little one started crying?"

"Do you-" he fought to control his laughter. "Do you remember making Fester believe that that makeup lady was a prostitute..."

Before Gomez could even finish his sentence, Morticia had already rolled off the bed, crying with laughter, " _Stooooopp!"_

Gomez peered over the bed at his wife and mimicked her, " _We don't countenance such behavior in this house!"_

Overwhelmed, Morticia began crawling around the floor. " _We're so meeaan.."_

* * *

" _Gomez_ , will you _please_ get off of her. You know Kitty hates it when you try to play Narnia."

* * *

"So what are we doing again?" Gomez asked Morticia as they stood cautiously beside a closed door in the dark hallway. Powerful snores were coming from the other side of the door.

"I thought we could get Fester back for putting that repulsive baby kitten in our bed last week. So.." she lifted her hand and opened her palm to show a tiny glass bottle, half-full with a dark liquid. "Mama accidentally made this when trying to conjure up a sleeping draught, and instead, one drop of this in your mouth makes every hair on your body simply just… _fall out_." She looked up at him, a wicked glint in her eye. Gomez groaned softly and took her free hand in his.

"Ah Tish, I love it when you… wait a minute… But darling, Fester doesn't have any hair."

Morticia blinked, and looked at the closed door as if she was trying to recollect what her uncle had looked like for the past 34 years of her life. "Oh… Oh, yes. Well… Let's just do it to Cousin Itt, then." She took his hand and began making her way up the stairs.

"Okay!"

* * *

The couple was laying side-by-side on the floor of their bedroom with their legs in the air, constantly intertwining with each other. Their feet would wrestle, producing small gasps and chuckles. Finally, Gomez sighed contently.

"What to do, Tish…"

"Search me, my love, we've done practically everything." She raised Gomez's arm and intertwined her fingers with his.

"...Not everything…"

"You're not jumping off the tower into the swamp, it's literally a yard from the house."

"I told you, if I bend my knees and engage my core-"

" _Gomez._ "

Gomez pouted slightly, but brought his wife's hand to his lips and nodded. He looked at the grandfather clock, and after a few moments he bolted upright. Morticia looked up at him.

"What is it, darling?"

"I know what we should do." He leaned down to Morticia's ear and whispered. Immediately, her eyes lit up and her mouth dropped into a wide smile.

"Yes. Let's go, let's go right now."

"I'll bring the car out front." He laughed and stood, pulling Morticia to her feet.

* * *

"No darling, we're looking for 1313, not 1312," Morticia tapped her husband's shoulder as she looked closely at the houses passing outside the window of the passenger's seat. Gomez parked the vehicle beside a curb and picked up two cartons of eggs and placed them under his arm as he got out to open the passenger side door. He helped Morticia out of the car and she adjusted the extremely large black coat that her figure was swimming in. She still didn't feel like getting dressed before they left, so she threw Gomez's coat over the cotton shirt and wore her house slippers, her legs still exposed up to her thigh. Gomez was back in his silk bottoms, sporting a Swamptown High sweatshirt.

"Oh wait, darling, those aren't the hopping eggs, are they? You know I hate to hear an egg scream… _God_ , I hate it so much."

"No, they're the rotten ones from the fridge."

Morticia looked up at him, "I just bought those…"

"Come on." He took her hand and hurried across the street to a large house, surrounded by a brick fence with a gate in front. They made their way to the side of the gate, careful not to be seen while Gomez hoisted Morticia on top of the brick and climbed up after her. Crouched low, they both opened their egg cartons.

"Okay… we go as fast as we can, and no windows."

"What happens if I hit a window?"

Gomez grinned. "Well, I suppose you'd have to be punished _,_ " he leaned closer, "arrested… _handcuffed…"_ His smile disappeared once he felt a crack on the top of his head, followed by the putrid stench of rotten yolk seeping down his forehead. Morticia giggled and shook the slime off her hand, flashing Gomez a white smile that pierced the dark veil of night.

"Just wanted to make sure, you know…" she placed her pointer finger in her mouth and slid it out slowly, cleaning off the yolk, "that they don't scream." She winked. Gomez wiped the egg from his face and groaned.

" _Tentadora."_ He shook his head and they both stood on the brick fence, eggs in hand.

"Alright, Cara, ready?... Aim… _FIRE!"_

They hurled their eggs at the house, shells bursting and black and orange yolk collecting in piles of dripping goo against the walls. Scoffing and giggling, the couple tried to discard the eggs as quickly as they could, making audible sounds and comments the higher an egg hit. Suddenly, light shone through a window on the first floor, and the front door of the house swung open with a _WHACK._ A large, blocky, shadowed figure came thudding onto the porch. The figure raised his heavy arms and cupped his hands around his eyes.

"... _ADDAMS?!"_

" Evening, Herman!" Gomez cackled and waved as Morticia continued hurling eggs.

"What is this, it's 4 in the morning!"

"It is?" Gomez looked at his wrist watch, and then the watch in the pocket of his pants."By Jove, you're right… Tish, we have more time than I thought, keep throwing!" He laughed and hurled an egg that splattered against the pillar beside Herman, who was seething with agitation.

"That does it, Addams..." Herman's shoulders lifted as his body heaved into a fit of heavy stomps. " _SPOOTTT!"_

Just then, a booming roar echoed from inside the house that vibrated under Morticia and Gomez's feet. "Abort. Abort, abort!" Gomez hopped off the brick wall. Another shadowed figure stepped onto the porch, small and willowy, and stopping just below Herman's shoulder. It raised a dainty hand and waved.

"Hello, Morticia."

"Hi, Lily, darling!" Morticia called out as Gomez lifted her off the wall and they both scurried across the street to the car.

"What gives, you only ever do this on Halloween!" Herman grumbled.

"EVERY NIGHT IS HALLOWEEN WITH US, MOTHERFUUCCKKEERRSS!" Gomez shouted with his middle finger shoved out the window of the car as they sped off down the street. Lily sighed and leaned against Herman.

"What an odd couple…"

* * *

At 5 AM in the master bedroom of the Addams mansion, Gomez and Morticia lay exhausted in each other's arms under the satin covers of their bed. The room was torn apart, candles out, blankets and pillows scattered across the floor, as well as numerous weapons, tools, food, clothes, paint materials, and a rhinoceros snoring peacefully in the corner. Morticia closed her eyes and turned her head to kiss Gomez's cheek that was pressed to her temple.

"Well, Gomez, darling… I won't lie, I had my doubts. But this truly has become one of the most memorable nights of my life… if I remember it." She looked over at the golden hookah, still sitting on her nightstand. Gomez smiled and held her closer, nuzzling her cheek.

"I promised you. No worries, no cares… _Ah, Tish_ , I'd do it all again with you, tomorrow."

She raised a brow and ran her fingers down his chest. "Perhaps not tomorrow, dear. But soon… and again." She walked her fingers up to his lips. "And again."

"And forever." He nibbled her fingers and took her wrist, planting kisses on her palm.

"I truly never felt more disconnected from the outside world. It was wondrous. I floated, and everything was forgotten."

Gomez smirked and drew circles on the small of her back with his finger. "Would you like to forget a little more, Cara Mia?.."

" _Mon Cher.."_ Morticia crooned and captured his lips, straddling him slowly. But just as she climbed on top of her lover, she screamed and hurled herself off the bed once the bedroom door burst apart, pieces of wood scattering in every direction. There stood Mama, steam radiating off her head, holding a red hot halberd. She swung the weapon over her head, and brought it down hard on a wooden side table that shattered into pieces. Gomez yelled and joined his wife on the floor, shoving themselves under the bed.

" _YOU DIRTY. ROTTEN. THIEVING SONS OF BITCHES!_ "

 ** _~ END ~_**


End file.
